


What A Difference A Day Makes

by mysticanni



Series: Heart of Glass [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: It is one year since Roger and Crystal became a couple.It is also one year since Roger was attacked.Their first anniversary isn't quite as they had expected.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Series: Heart of Glass [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485515
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	What A Difference A Day Makes

**Author's Note:**

> As usual this fits no recognisable real life timeline.
> 
> Lyrics scattered throughout are from What A Difference A Day Makes by Dinah Washington.

“My yesterday was blue, dear

Today I’m part of you, dear

My lonely nights are through, dear

Since you said you were mine.”

The rocking of the tour bus had lulled Roger to sleep, his head resting on Crystal’s shoulder. Freddie nudged Brian, ‘He looks so sweet.’

Brian merely grunted but privately agreed that Roger did look sweet.

Overhearing them, Crystal gathered Roger a little closer to him. It was exactly a year since what they all referred to as The Incident and Roger had not been sleeping well the last few nights. Crystal had not found the time or courage to open a discussion about that with Roger and felt the anniversary of The Incident was now looming over them.

Freddie watched Crystal who was hunched protectively over Roger. It had been a year but Crystal still seemed uncomfortable about displaying affection to Roger in front of the other band members. Freddie wondered if he should talk to Crystal about that. They had not had the best of starts when Crystal’s relationship with Roger had changed from employee and friend to employee and boyfriend. Freddie hoped Crystal did not think the others felt any ill will or hostility towards him. Hoping was not good enough, he decided: he must speak to Crystal as soon as possible, which would probably be tomorrow.

He realised with a jolt that it was exactly a year since The Incident. That meant that tomorrow Crystal and Roger would have been a couple for exactly one year.

*

As the coach neared the hotel Roger began to mutter incoherently in his sleep, shifting restlessly in Crystal’s arms. ‘You’re safe,’ Crystal murmured, ‘I’m here. You’re safe.’

Roger awakened with a little gasp. ‘I’m here. It was just a dream, Rog, you’re safe.’

Roger snuggled against him. ‘We’re just coming up to the hotel now,’ Crystal told him. ‘There should be a car to take you all to the radio station for your interview.’

Crystal wished he could go with them but the bus would off-load the band, Miami, the luggage and whoever was on hotel check-in duty then proceed to the venue. Miami and the band would be taken from the hotel to the radio station for the interview then come to the venue from the interview in time for sound-check. They wouldn’t see their hotel rooms until after the show (or after they had staggered back from wherever they had been after the show).

Crystal was worried about Roger. ‘I’ll see you at sound-check, love,’ he murmured, giving Roger a peck on the lips as he rose to follow Freddie, Brian and John off the bus. Despite his nap Roger looked exhausted. ‘I love you.’

‘Ditto,’ Roger grinned. He waggled his fingers at Crystal as he left the coach.

*

Roger sat between Freddie and Brian in the limousine that had appeared to take them to the radio station. Miami and John sat opposite them. ‘Which string of letters is this?’ Roger asked. The radio stations always seemed to use acronyms as their names.

‘This is E.C.S.N.’ Miami replied.

Roger grinned. They were working their way towards New York where the tour would finish. Roger couldn’t wait to get home. Normally he loved touring but over the last week he’d been struggling with it. He wanted to lock himself away in the little home he now shared with Crystal and hide. Everyone seemed to want something from him and he was tired of giving. He was weary of putting on a mask of cheerfulness. The only things keeping him going were actually performing, which made him feel alive, and Crystal who made him feel safe and loved and who demanded nothing other than to be allowed to love Roger. He did not deserve Crystal, Roger thought.

*

The radio presenter was a woman, which was unusual. Perhaps one day it wouldn’t be, Roger reflected. He’d missed her name and felt momentarily panicky until Brian helpfully referred to her as Melissa.

They sat across a desk from her, the four of them in a row: Freddie and Roger and John and Brian. Roger mentally braced himself: would she ask about The Incident? He suspected she would. It had been a while since it had been mentioned at an interview but it was exactly a year since it had happened. Roger thought it would be astonishing if she did not raise the subject. He was surprised Miami had not said anything about it. Perhaps he trusted Roger to have remembered the earlier briefings about what to say and what to avoid at all costs. That would be astonishing too.

*

As the roadies worked they listened to their employers being interviewed on the radio. The woman interviewing them started off with polite album and tour questions which Brian fielded.

Crystal wondered if she was flirting with Roger. She sounded slightly star-struck by all of them.

Then she asked about The Incident.

*

‘Roger, almost exactly a year ago you claimed you were sexually assaulted. Do you still maintain the sexual intercourse you engaged in with other men was not consensual?’

‘He was raped!’ John snapped.

That was not a Miami-approved response, Roger thought. The ‘r’ word was usually avoided. People didn’t like it: it made them uncomfortable. Roger didn’t like it much either.

‘I did not consent to what happened to me that night,’ Roger said. He thought he sounded calm. Too calm, maybe: it was important not to sound mechanical. He had, at least, managed a Miami authorised response.

‘Do you feel you brought it on yourself by the way you act, Roger?’ the interviewer, Melissa, asked sweetly. ‘You have quite a reputation for sleeping around,’ she added with a little laugh.

*

‘Fucking bitch,’ Crystal exploded. They had all gathered round the radio now and were staring at it as if it might burst into flames.

*

‘Just because he sleeps around doesn’t mean he deserved that!’ Brian cried.

That was not a Miami-approved response either, Roger thought, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. ‘I like to have fun,’ Roger said, ‘but I don’t hurt anyone in the process and I don’t believe I deserved what happened to me.’

He had heard journalists shout similar questions to him as he had been whisked between cars and buildings once the press had found out about The Incident the previous year. He had never actually been asked during an interview before. As there was no Miami-sanctioned reply to ‘as a slut you were begging for it weren’t you’ Roger guessed Miami had not anticipated Roger being asked that to his face. Melissa evidently intended to make her name with this interview.

‘It has been suggested that you enjoy sex with other men, Roger, is that true?’ she cooed.

‘Now darling you know that isn’t what Rog has a reputation for,’ Freddie drawled, winking at her. ‘It’s hardly his fault if everyone finds him irresistible.’

Roger was grateful to Freddie and immensely relieved when Melissa asked if any of the songs on the new album had been inspired by The Incident because Brian said no and then launched into a nice long answer about what had inspired them, particularly what had been important to Brian at the time.

*

The bitch made no further reference to The Incident.

Crystal checked everything he was doing twice because he knew his concern for Roger was distracting him.

Ratty appeared at his elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ Ratty asked softly.

Crystal shrugged. ‘Not really, no. I’m probably in better shape than Roger though.’

Ratty squeezed Crystal’s shoulder sympathetically. ‘There are press gathering outside,’ he informed Crystal, ‘so you can’t go and meet him,’ he added unnecessarily.

Fuck.

Crystal thought with horror of Roger’s sunglasses, which he had left on the tour bus and which were now nestling in the pocket of Crystal’s jacket. The whole thing was a fucking nightmare. He consoled himself with the thought that Roger was with the others who would look after him.

He continued to set up the drum-kit as Roger liked it. If he could do nothing else for Roger he could at least do his job.

*

There had been no fanfare when they entered the radio station but as they left flashbulbs popped, blinding them.

Roger reached for his sunglasses in his jacket pocket and was horrified to discover they weren’t there. He suddenly pictured them very clearly, tucked into the seat pocket of the tour bus where he had left them.

Shit.

He wished he had not cut his hair. He felt exposed.

He flinched as a hand gripped his upper arm. ‘Just me,’ Miami murmured, guiding him down a seemingly endless flight of steps towards the waiting car. Roger did not remember there being so many steps on the way in.

Freddie and Brian and John were around him too, they and Miami all doing their best to prevent the photographers from getting a clear shot of Roger’s face. He wondered what he looked like. He felt stunned.

He could hear the whirring and clicking of the cameras.

He could hear some of the shouts: slut; reckless behaviour; tease; consent. ‘You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Roger?’ a voice called out, sounding very close.

Roger looked up and blinked as a camera flash blinded him.

‘Keep your head down, dear,’ Freddie advised him.

Feeling that he had let them all down, Roger did as he was told until Miami pulled and Freddie pushed him into the car. He sat between Miami and Freddie. John and Brian looked white-faced and tight-lipped opposite them. The tension was palpable. ‘I’m sorry,’ Roger mumbled.

‘You have no need to apologise, darling,’ Freddie told him.

‘If anyone is sorry it should be me,’ Miami sighed. ‘I should have predicted questions about The Incident. I didn’t realise it was a year ago.’

Roger supposed that possibility should have occurred to him; that it was not that Miami trusted him to recall his lines about The Incident from the previous year: it was simply that The Incident was only important to Roger. Other people could forget. Other people did not carry the shame and anxiety with them. Other people felt clean.

Crystal remembered too, of course. Roger needed Crystal. He needed Crystal right now. He realised his breathing was becoming erratic; heard Deaky murmur, ‘He’s having a panic attack.’

*

They had to sit in the car outside the venue until Roger was sufficiently in control of himself to manage walking into the building. By which point photographers and journalists were swarming round the car. Then some of the larger members of the crew arrived to act as bouncers. Roger looked for Crystal but he was not there, of course. He could not be there: Roger would cling to him. The photographers would lap that up.

Roger thought Crystal would be just inside the doors. That thought kept him moving, up steps this time, with his eyes obediently on his feet; on his twinkling pink sparkly Converse, sandwiched between Miami and Freddie who were propelling him into the venue.

The voices yelled: slut; whore; depraved; orgy; reprehensible behaviour; shocking. Then he was out of the glare of sunlight and camera flashes and into the deserted lobby.

Crystal was not there.

Roger felt his knees buckle. Miami and Freddie were holding him up. ‘You’re okay, darling,’ Freddie assured him.

Roger did not feel okay. He felt he was teetering on the brink of an abyss of negative emotions that would overwhelm him if he fell into it.

Crystal was not there.

He needed Crystal.

‘Take a nice deep breath,’ Miami suggested, ‘You have sound-check now, Rog,’ he added firmly. ‘You have a job to do.’

*

Crystal jumped down from the drum risers as Miami and Freddie approached with a dazed-looking Roger between them. Brian and John were close behind. Everyone looked worried.

Roger suddenly looked straight at Crystal. ‘Is everything set up?’ he croaked, his voice hoarse. When Crystal nodded he gently pulled away from Freddie and Miami and headed for the drum-kit.

Freddie didn’t even wait for Roger to sit down before he confronted Crystal: ‘Where the hell were you, darling? He had a fucking panic attack in the car. We all expected you to be waiting at the door. He all but collapsed when you weren’t there.’

Freddie presumably thought he was completely deaf, Roger reflected. A very distant part of his mind filed away his mortification at the news of his panic attack and near collapse being broadcast quite loudly in public. Most of the crew were well within earshot.

‘I don’t have to explain myself to you,’ Crystal said. His voice was flat. Roger silently willed Freddie to leave it there.

‘You work for me,’ Freddie snapped. ‘So you do have to answer to me, dear.’

‘I’ve done my job,’ Crystal said.

Roger bit his lip and tasted blood. ‘Crys,’ he called, ‘can I have a hand with this, please?’ He hoped he sounded relatively normal. He felt a little better: Miami had been correct to tell him to do his job, he thought. Tuning the drums was soothing.

‘Excuse me,’ Crystal said coldly, turning away from Freddie.

‘You know,’ Freddie snapped, ‘you may have done what you are paid for but you completely failed in your other role as Roger’s partner. And you may not think that is any of my business but as someone who loves Roger I must say I’m incredibly disappointed in you, darling.’

Crystal had halted with one foot on the bottom step of the drum risers. Roger saw his hands clench into fists. He held his breath, only exhaling when Crystal said nothing and resumed moving towards Roger instead. ‘What’s up, boss?’ Crystal was trying to sound carefree, Roger thought, but was terse and tense.

Roger reached up and grasped the front of Crystal’s shirt, pulling him towards him. ‘I’d like a kiss, please.’

Crystal’s eyes skittered away from Roger, anxiously checking who would be able to see them kissing. Roger wanted to tell him that they all knew; had all seen Crystal and Roger kiss before. Maybe Crystal would never be comfortable with public displays of affection between them, though. It was certainly not a battle Roger was going to win just now.

Crystal’s hands brushed his jaw and his lips brushed Roger’s lips.

*

They worked in companionable silence after that, as they often did. Roger seemed more himself, Crystal thought. He wondered uneasily if Roger felt the same way as Freddie about his failure to go to the door to meet Roger earlier. He had thought Roger might fall apart once he was safe in Crystal’s arms; might fall apart in front of everyone. He told himself that Roger would not have wanted that to happen.

Crystal knew, deep down inside, that he was bothered by people seeing them as a couple. He was not entirely sure why.

They could not flaunt their relationship, of course. Two men loving one another was taboo. However, even amongst friends Crystal felt awkward displaying his love for Roger.

He was not ashamed of Roger. He was constantly amazed someone as vibrant and funny and talented and beautiful as Roger had chosen him. Roger could have anyone but wanted Crystal. He did think part of it was his wish to keep ‘Them’ hidden; they as a couple ‘RogerandCrystal’ were private; no one else’s business.

Crystal did not want other people commenting on his relationship with Roger. He could imagine what people would say: it won’t last; what does Roger see in him; Roger is out of his league; they’re an odd couple, aren’t they; Crystal is a gold-digger.

*

Although it had been a sunny day it was cold. Crystal placed Roger’s robe over one of the radiators in the dressing-room and met Phoebe on a similar errand with Freddie’s robe.

Phoebe laid a comforting hand on Crystal’s arm. ‘Are you okay?’ Phoebe asked.

‘Me?’ Crystal was startled.

‘You,’ Phoebe’s voice was firm, ‘your lover has been emotionally shattered and you are trying to glue him back together. Are you okay?’

Crystal shook his head. ‘No,’ he admitted.

Phoebe pulled him into a hug. ‘You don’t have to be alone, sweetheart,’ Phoebe murmured, ‘I’ll always listen, if you need to talk.’

‘Thank you,’ Crystal felt ridiculously close to tears.

*

Roger was on fire, Crystal thought: taking out his emotional state on the drums. The air around him seemed charged. He was beautiful.

*

The steps down from the stage were steep. Crystal had wrapped Roger in his heated robe. He clamped Roger to his side and carefully escorted him down the steps. ‘Y’ know, this would be a damned sight easier if you weren’t practically blind because you are too vain to wear your glasses,’ Crystal grumbled, as he always did.

Roger bounced off the last step, eyes shining. ‘Did y’ hear everyone singing along with us Crys? They loved us!’ He was bouncing on his toes.

‘I heard. I’m not completely deaf yet.’

‘They loved us!’ Roger repeated, wonderingly.

Crystal picked Roger up and spun around holding him.

Roger yelped then giggled. He wrapped his legs around Crystal’s waist. ‘Woo-hoo!’

Crystal spun faster. ‘Of course they loved you!’ He set Roger back down, both of them slightly giddy. Roger caught his hand and ran off towards the dressing-room with Crystal in tow.

*

Once Roger was in the shower Freddie, who was already towel drying his hair, asked Crystal to leave the room, ‘Everyone out, apart from the band and Miami,’ he ordered.

Crystal opened his mouth to protest then thought better of it. He aimed a curt nod at Freddie and left.

All of the assistants had gone, Roger noted, when he emerged from the shower. Miami was the only non-band member there.

Roger’s heart sank: they were clearly about to have the post-radio-interview chat. He began to scramble into clothes: he needed to be dressed for this.

Freddie was tapping his foot impatiently so Roger left his feet bare and curled up in an armchair. Miami was sitting on a table swinging his legs. Brian and John were huddled on a sofa.

Freddie was leaning against the wall. ‘I’ll start,’ he declared, glancing at Miami, ‘Roger, darling, we can find you a new drum technician...’

This was not what Roger had expected. ‘Why the hell would I want a new drum tech’?’ he wondered.

‘Told you,’ Brian muttered. He bestowed a pitying glance on Roger. ‘Fred thinks you would find it easier if Crystal was just your boyfriend not your employee.’

Roger flushed. He was not sure if he was angry or embarrassed or touched or a mixture of all three, maybe. ‘Thanks for your concern,’ he said, trying to keep his voice as light as possible, ‘Crystal performs both roles adequately at the moment. I don’t need a replacement.’ It was, he thought, none of their business.

‘Crystal might find it easier,’ Freddie suggested, ignoring John and Miami’s warning looks and Brian’s glare.

Was Crystal supposed to become his house-husband? A brief image of Crystal wearing a floral apron with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth flitted through Roger’s mind and he laughed. ‘Perhaps I should be replaced,’ he suggested.

Freddie scowled. ‘Don’t be silly, darling! Your tambourine waggling skills are irreplaceable!’

‘So is Crystal,’ Roger stated.

Freddie nodded. ‘It was just an idea, dear.’ He waved his hand at Miami. ‘Do carry on, Miami, darling.’

Miami cleared his throat. As he did so there was a loud crash from the corridor outside and they heard muffled swearing. Miami glanced at the door and raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at Brian and John. ‘I’m disappointed about what happened at the interview today,’ Miami said softly. He looked at Roger. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, Rog. I had no idea you would be attacked like that and I am sorry that I let you down.’

Roger shook his head. ‘’S okay,’ he mumbled.

‘No, it isn’t,’ Freddie disagreed.

‘I should have asked for a list of questions to be submitted beforehand,’ Miami said. He returned his gaze to Brian and John, who squirmed on the sofa like little boys in the head-teacher’s office. ‘Roger, you handled the situation very well. Brian and John, on the other hand, gave less satisfactory responses.’

‘Sorry, Miami,’ John said. ‘I was taken by surprise and I was angry.’

Brian frowned. ‘Technically,’ he said slowly, ‘what I said and what John said, as a matter of fact, was true.’

He sleeps around. Slut, tease: you deserved it; you deserved it; you deserved it.

Roger could not breathe again.

He wanted Crystal.

Panicking, he jumped up and ran out of the room, ignoring the surprised and concerned voices of the others.

He halted, howling, as his bare feet met the broken glass in the corridor.

*

Roger’s breathing was erratic. He sat on the floor in the corridor and told himself to get a grip. He had not had a panic attack for months and now he was having his second panic attack of the day.

He needed to ground himself, he thought vaguely.

Five things he could see: the floor with its dusty scuffed linoleum; glittering broken glass; blood; the wall, made of grey breezeblocks.

Blood.

He closed his eyes.

Four things he could touch: the soft worn fabric of his jeans; the calloused skin of his other hand; his hair, damp from his shower; the floor, which felt cold. Perhaps this was working.

Three things he could hear: Freddie: ‘Why the fuck is there broken glass all over the floor?’

A surprised, ‘Oh! I dropped a vase. Why’s Roger got bare feet?’ That voice belonged to Ratty, Roger thought. It was a valid point: if he had put his shoes on he would not be in this mess. He risked a glimpse: Ratty with a dustpan and brush; Freddie with his hands on his hips; Phoebe looking shocked and turning to leave.

Blood.

Roger closed his eyes again.

Freddie: ‘You broke that vase I bought yesterday?’

Brian: ‘I’m not sure that is the most pressing concern at the moment Fred.’

Brian sounded cross. ‘You know, this is your fault Freddie. If you hadn’t been hassling Roger about sacking Crystal then Roger wouldn’t have had another panic attack and run off!’

‘Oh, that’s utter nonsense Brian!’ Freddie cried. ‘This is Roger’s fault for not putting shoes on!’

Ratty said, ‘You’re sacking Crystal?’ He sounded shocked.

Roger felt his breathing speed up again. That was more than three things he had heard. Now he couldn’t bloody stop hearing them.

Someone snorted. ‘He isn’t wearing shoes because you were so impatient to ask him to let Crystal go that he felt he had to sit down for your lecture.’ That was John, Roger realised.

Ratty repeated, ‘You’re sacking Crystal?’ a little louder.

‘Who’s sacking me?’

Freddie sighed dramatically. Roger could tell a dramatic sigh of Freddie’s even with his eyes closed. ‘No one is sacking you, dear. It wasn’t like that.’

Someone snorted again. ‘It sounded fairly like that, Freddie,’ John said.

‘I merely suggested their relationship might be improved if they didn’t work together, that is all,’ Freddie sounded injured. ‘And Roger just said no to that,’ he added slowly, ‘that is not when he became upset.’

Boots crunched over the broken glass. ‘Hello, love, I’m just going to have a look at your feet,’ Crystal murmured.

Two things he could smell: cigarette smoke; hotel soap; sweat. Crystal.

He flinched, whimpering, as cold hands touched his foot. It hurt. ‘Sorry, love.’ Crystal did not sound all that sorry.

Roger tried to squirm away but Crystal ruthlessly held and examined his other foot.

Roger opened both eyes and glared at him.

Blood.

One thing he could taste: vomit.

He swallowed hard. He refused to vomit like a child.

‘Does he need to see a doctor?’ That was Miami’s voice.

Roger opened his eyes again. Crystal was shaking his head. ‘They’re not deep cuts. He doesn’t need stitches.’

‘How do you know?’ Brian asked suspiciously.

‘The edges of the skin meet. He’s just got a few little cuts,’ Crystal slid his arm around Roger’s shoulders. ‘I’m gonna lift you, okay, li’l’ angel?’ Roger nodded.

‘Roger,’ Brian said, as Crystal scooped Roger up, bridal-style, ‘you’re the biologist, does Crystal sound like he knows what he is talking about?’ Roger nodded.

Crystal carried him back into the dressing room. ‘If my feet have to be amputated you’ll have to carry me like this all the time,’ Roger noted.

Crystal laughed. ‘You don’t even need stitches, drama queen!’

Roger pressed his head against Crystal’s shoulder. ‘Thanks,’ he murmured. Crystal gently deposited him on the table. Blood dripped on to the floor. There was a trail of blood splashes back to the door. Roger closed his eyes again. He was vaguely aware of Crystal issuing orders: get the first aid kit; get a mop and a bucket of hot soapy water and clean the floor; take that chair into the bathroom; fetch towels; are there any paper towels?

‘Rog,’ Crystal’s voice was close to his ear. Roger opened his eyes. Crystal stroked his hair, ‘I need to clean your feet, li’l’ angel. I’m just gonna go and see how things look in the bathroom.’

Roger nodded. He looked around and grinned. Freddie was mopping the floor. Freddie glared at him. ‘Stop bleeding, darling, I’ve already cleaned that bit.’ Roger closed his eyes again. ‘Oh, sweetheart, is it terribly sore?’ Freddie sympathised.

It was agony, actually, but Roger was going to be brave and plucky, especially in front of Crystal. ‘It’s sore, but not unmanageable.’ He was scared he might throw up. He opened his eyes and looked up at the stained ceiling tiles. ‘Where’s everyone else gone?’

‘Your bossy boyfriend has dispatched everyone on errands,’ Freddie sniffed.

Just then Crystal returned. ‘Right, then,’ he said, ‘I’m gonna lift you again.’ Crystal carried him to the bathroom. A chair had been placed near a sink. ‘Pop your foot up on the edge of the basin, please, little imp.’

Roger obliged. Crystal turned on the mixer tap and washed his own hands using liquid soap from the dispenser. He dried his hands on a paper towel. There was a stack of paper towels next to the sink. Someone had been sent to fetch paper towels, Roger thought. He frowned.

‘Why did Freddie get to stay?’ he asked as Crystal rolled Roger’s jeans up his legs.

Crystal smiled. ‘I thought you might need him.’ He poured a cup of water over Roger’s foot.

Roger flinched. ‘Oh!’

*

Crystal considered telling Roger that using soap on the wounds was going to hurt then thought better of it. Roger would know that. Crystal lathered his hands again and ran them over Roger’s wet foot. Roger gasped and jerked in the chair.

‘Tell me how the ‘let’s sack Crystal’ conversation went,’ Crystal requested, as he rinsed Roger’s foot with another cup of water.

Roger told him, between gasps. ‘I told Freddie you perform both roles adequately,’ he concluded.

*

Crystal patted his foot dry with a paper towel and wrapped it in a clean towel. Someone had been sent to fetch towels too. Roger’s eyes were watering. ‘Now your other foot,’ Crystal commanded.

Roger shook his head frantically. ‘No, no, no! It’s fine!’

‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘Crys...’ Roger whined.

‘Come on, Rog,’ Crystal requested.

Roger sighed and obeyed. Crystal repeated the process with his other foot. This time he asked, ‘So what did make you run?’

Roger’s breath hitched. Crystal rinsed his foot, soaped it again. He waited.

‘I... He... Miami gave Brian and John a telling off for what they said during the interview and Brian said that... he said... hesaiditwastruethatIamaslut,atease...’ Roger gasped, barely intelligibly.

*

‘Brian said you were a slut?’ Crystal said slowly. He thought back to the interview. It seemed so long ago now: so much had happened since.

‘Not exactly,’ Roger admitted. ‘But that is what he meant.’

Crystal patted Roger’s foot dry. Just because he sleeps around: that is what Brian had said during the interview. ‘Imp, what did Brian say to Miami?’

Roger sniffed. ‘He said that what he said during the interview was true.’

Just because he slept around he didn’t deserve to be raped.

Crystal supposed that was true, but...

...fucking Brian.

‘You deserve better,’ Roger mumbled as Crystal wrapped his foot in a towel.

‘Probably,’ Crystal agreed, trying to keep his voice light, ‘but I’m in love with you.’ He bestowed a brief kiss on Roger’s lips. ‘I’m gonna see if Phoebe’s back with the first aid kit, I won’t be long.’

*

The tap dripped. Roger’s feet throbbed. He could hear voices from the next room.

‘Is he okay? Are you certain he doesn’t need stitches?’ That was Brian, Roger thought.

‘Do you need anything else?’ And that was Miami.

‘I need painkillers, more bandages, antiseptic cream. This is a poor excuse for a first aid kit,’ Crystal grumbled. ‘Does anyone know if this place has somewhere that will be open for medical supplies at this time?’

‘I’ll find out!’ That sounded like Phoebe, Roger thought.

This suspicion was confirmed when Crystal yelled. ‘Phoebs, shoes! He’ll need trainers a couple of sizes larger than usual.’

‘He can borrow something of Brian’s, darling,’ Freddie suggested, ‘Isn’t that right, dear? Your feet must be a few sizes bigger than Roger’s.’

‘I’ve only got my clogs here,’ Brian said. He sounded worried. ‘He’s welcome to them if he needs them, of course.’

‘And what will you do?’ John’s voice, Roger thought, speaking sharply. ‘Will you go barefoot? That’s how we got into this mess in the first place!’

Roger flushed: Deaky evidently thought he was an idiot. He comforted himself with the thought that Deaky thought Brian was an idiot too. How typical of Brian to offer the clogs off his feet.

‘You haven’t answered my earlier question,’ Brian said, which was also typical, ‘are you sure he doesn’t need stitches and is he okay?’

‘He doesn’t need stitches,’ Crystal said, his tone very clipped, ‘and I would like to know what you did to upset him in the first place, please?’

‘Oh, now, darling, he’s fine now isn’t he?’ Freddie protested. ‘It was a silly misunderstanding. There’s no need to go into it now.’

‘There was no misunderstanding,’ Brian objected. ‘I didn’t say anything wrong at the interview! I was defending Roger! I would like to know what I’m supposed to have done wrong here!’

‘You said that just because Roger slept around he didn’t deserve to be raped,’ Crystal said. His tone was icy. Roger, listening, shivered. ‘Roger has heard that as: Brian thinks Roger is a slut and a tease and I expect what he is thinking but not saying is that deep down you think he did deserve it.’

Roger nodded. He did think that. He heard Brian’s clogs approaching. Apart from the footsteps everything had gone very quiet in the other room. In the bathroom the tap dripped steadily like a little drumbeat.

‘Roger?’ Brian sounded nervous.

‘Hey, Bri,’ Roger looked up at him and smiled.

‘It has come to my attention,’ Brian said uncomfortably, ‘that you may have misinterpreted what I said at the radio station.’ He stared down at Roger, who smiled in a politely puzzled way. Brian sighed. ‘I... Crystal seems to believe you might think that I... Roger, you do know I don’t think you’re a slut?’

Roger felt tears fill his eyes. ‘You said I was,’ he mumbled.

‘I said you sleep around, which is true!’ Brian cried, sounding exasperated.

Roger gasped. ‘Not now I don’t! Crystal is the only one for me!’

‘Well, okay, perhaps I used the wrong tense but I don’t think you’re a slut, Rog! What would that make me? I’ve slept around too!’ Brian crouched next to Roger’s chair, seeming to realise he was looming. ‘And no one deserves to be attacked like you were.’

Roger sniffed. ‘Thank you.’

Brian stood again, ruffling Roger’s hair as he did so. ‘I never meant to upset you,’ he said softly.

‘I know, Brimi, I love you too.’

‘How touching,’ Freddie was in the doorway, dramatically clutching his chest. ‘My heart is about to burst! Brian, darling, John and Miami and Phoebe are going to get the huge list of items Crystal says are essential for Roger’s continued survival. Why don’t you go and supervise?’

Brian left. Freddie approached Roger. ‘Really, dear, as if any one of us would judge you,’ he said reproachfully. He wrapped his arms around Roger, who leaned into the embrace. ‘And I can tell you that some of the press people who shouted those vile things at you earlier are, as my mama would say, no better than they should be.’

Roger laughed. Freddie kissed the top of his head. ‘Thanks, Fred.’

‘I didn’t mean to offend you earlier, about your relationship with Crystal,’ Freddie added.

‘You didn’t,’ Roger murmured.

‘Good. This may have been one of the extremely rare occasions where I was wrong,’ Freddie rumpled Roger’s hair.

‘If you’ve finished man-handling him then I’d like to bandage his feet, please,’ Crystal drawled, entering the bathroom.

‘You don’t have any bandages, do you?’ Freddie asked suspiciously.

Crystal brandished the ice-cream tub he was holding. ‘This is what passes for a first aid kit in this place,’ he said.

‘Ice-cream does make everything better,’ Roger said, nodding.

Crystal laughed. ‘It might as well have ice-cream in it for all the use it is!’ He knelt at Roger’s feet.

Roger reached out and tangled his fingers in Crystal’s hair. Looking down at Crystal’s head he could see how far his hairline had receded and it felt like a very intimate knowledge. It seemed to make Crystal vulnerable. ‘I like you in this position,’ he joked.

Freddie snorted. Crystal blushed. ‘Behave,’ Crystal muttered.

Roger nodded at the ice-cream tub. ‘This is going to prove perfectly adequate, isn’t it?’

‘Adequate,’ Crystal grunted.

‘So why have you sent the others off on silly errands, darling?’ Freddie asked indignantly.

‘We will need more bandages,’ Crystal said, ‘and there are no painkillers in here.’ He rattled the ice-cream box. ‘Roger needs shoes, socks, antiseptic lotion and cream,’ Crystal shrugged. ‘It’s all necessary. Besides,’ he looked up at Roger, ‘I know you love them and they are family to you but they were driving me demented.’

Roger grinned, ‘with the exception of Freddie?’

‘I’m fairly sure I was driving you crazy too, dear, so why haven’t I been banished?’ Freddie asked.

‘I thought you might come in useful,’ Crystal muttered.

Freddie laughed, ‘in what way, dearest?’

Crystal did not reply. He stood and washed his hands thoroughly then knelt in front of Roger again.

Roger shook his head slightly at Freddie, indicating that he should leave it. He winced as Crystal smoothed antiseptic cream over his wounds.

Freddie began to gather up the blood-stained towels on the floor.

‘Thanks,’ Crystal said. ‘There’s a laundry cart in the corner of the dressing-room: just shove them in there.’

Roger looked questioningly at Crystal. ‘The others are going to meet us at the hotel,’ Crystal told him. ‘You and Freddie ‘n’ me will get a car from here to the hotel.’

*

Crystal was grateful that they would be playing in this town for another couple of days. All the equipment could stay in place for now and they could get stuff washed. ‘I’ll carry you out to the car,’ he told Roger.

*

Everyone seemed to have congregated in Roger and Crystal’s suite of rooms at the hotel. Roger was propped up on a sofa, his feet on cushions. Someone had ordered pizza and Crystal had made Roger eat a couple of slices before giving him a glass of water and painkillers.

Deaky had slipped Roger a bottle of beer when Crystal wasn’t looking. Roger had half-expected Crystal to storm over and remove it, but he had simply frowned at Roger, which was somehow worse.

At first it had been nice to have everyone fussing over him but now they’d all drifted off into little standing groups and Roger felt left out. He also had a splitting headache and his feet were throbbing. He set his barely touched beer on the glass coffee table near the sofa and looked for Crystal.

*

Crystal looked over at Roger. He looked forlorn, Crystal thought. Crystal excused himself from the people he had been chatting to: the whole crew seemed to be here. The party was where Roger was, Crystal reflected, even if Roger did not want to party.

He knelt next to Roger. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

‘Can you get rid of everyone, please?’ Roger said tiredly.

‘Of course,’ Crystal stroked Roger’s hair. ‘Do you want more water?’

Roger shook his head.

‘Okay. Hang on and I’ll get rid of this lot.’

*

Roger watched as Crystal moved from group to group and people began to leave. Freddie, Brian, John and Miami came to say goodbye.

Miami instructed Crystal and Roger to let him know if they needed anything. ‘Even if it is in the middle of the night,’ he instructed them.

‘He doesn’t mean if you run out of condoms, darling,’ Freddie supplied helpfully, winking at Roger.

Brian rolled his eyes. ‘Sleep well, Rog. See you tomorrow.’

Deaky simply hugged him.

‘Thanks guys,’ Roger said, ‘I’m sorry I was so useless today.’

‘You were utterly fabulous, as always, dear,’ Freddie kissed his cheek.

Crystal was clearing up the room, gathering glasses and empty bottles. He thought grimly that this had probably all been charged to Roger.

‘All the drinks were charged to my room, darling,’ Freddie said as he left. Crystal sometimes wondered if Freddie could read minds. Freddie glanced back at Roger. ‘You will look after him, won’t you? He seems a little lost.’

Crystal simply nodded. Of course he would bloody well look after Roger. His irritation faded as he thought that it was good that Roger had concerned friends.

Once everyone had gone and he had cleared and cleaned the room, he joined Roger on the sofa. He noted that Roger had finished the beer.

Roger obligingly sat up so Crystal could sit next to him and wrap his arms around Roger. Roger pressed against him then made a little huffing sound. He drew back from Crystal. ‘You’re all lumpy!’ Roger pouted, reaching his hand into the top pocket of Crystal’s denim jacket and withdrawing the offending item: the sunglasses he had left on the coach earlier, which he now placed on the table next to the empty beer bottle.

Crystal started to say that he had forgotten about the sunglasses when he realised that Roger was crying. ‘Roger?’

*

Something had broken inside Roger at the sight of the sunglasses. ‘I needed those!’ he howled, thumping Crystal’s chest with his fists. ‘I needed those and I needed you and you weren’t there! You weren’t there!’ He collapsed against Crystal, sobbing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Crystal whispered. ‘I should have followed my instincts and met you at the door. I was scared I’d make things worse.’

‘How could you make things worse?’ Roger howled. ‘You make things better!’

‘I’m so sorry, little love. I got it wrong.’ Crystal found a clean handkerchief in his pocket and offered it to Roger, who was now calmer.

Roger mopped his eyes and blew his nose. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, ‘I’m being ridiculous.’

Crystal pulled him close. ‘You’ve had a horrible day, love. You’re allowed to cry.’

A tendril of hair was stuck to Roger’s cheekbone and Crystal smoothed it away. He had protested when Roger cut his hair but the new choppy style was cute. He had not admitted to Roger that he liked his new pixie-ish hair.

(‘It makes you look like an imp, Rog. Impling.’ Crystal had sniffed.

Roger had fluffed it up. ‘Admit it: you can’t wait to run your fingers through it!’ He had treated Crystal to a wicked little smile.

Annoyingly, Roger had been correct: Crystal couldn’t wait to ruffle his hair. It was begging to be rumpled. He had lit a cigarette instead. ‘Or a pixie,’ he had mused, ‘it makes you look like a cheeky little pixie.’

‘I look cute, you mean? Thank you,’ Roger grinned. ‘It’s a pisky in Cornwall, not a pixie’ he added.

Crystal had decided to deliberately mishear this, ‘a pesky? Yeah, that’s definitely you, babe.’)

*

‘I was gonna seduce you,’ Roger said sadly. He indicated his red eyes and bandaged feet. ‘I don’t think this is very seductive,’ he concluded mournfully.

‘From your ankles up to your nose you’re still quite sexy,’ Crystal offered.

Roger slapped his arm. ‘I don’t know why you bother staying with me,’ he said dolefully. ‘I’m so useless.’

‘Is this where I tell you how fabulous you are?’ Crystal kissed the top of Roger’s head which was nestled against his chest. ‘Why do I bother staying with you? Let’s see... I love it when you sing while you’re washing the dishes. I love it when you make me breakfast in bed, even when you burn the toast, which is kind of always. I love that when Mr Drayton next door was ill with ‘flu’ you took him soup and did his shopping for him. I love the way you hug the others when you see them, even if you had a blazing row the last time you saw each other.’ Crystal kissed Roger. ‘And I feel so lucky that I get to have all your kindness and sweetness and loveliness all the time because you could have had anyone in the world but you chose me.’ He kissed Roger again.

‘I couldn’t’ve had anyone,’ Roger disagreed, ‘but even if that was true I wouldn’t want them. I only want you.’

‘That’s just as well, because you’re stuck with me, blondie.’

*

“Lord, what a difference a day makes

There’s a rainbow before me

Skies above can’t be stormy

Since that moment of bliss

That thrilling kiss.”

Crystal awakened to the familiar weight of Roger’s head on his chest. He ran his hand through Roger’s soft hair. ‘’Lo,’ Roger mumbled.

‘Good morning,’ Crystal replied, ‘I love you,’ he added.

Roger grunted. ‘Ditto.’ He sat up, dislodging the covers and Crystal shivered. ‘Sorry.’ Roger straddled him, dipping his head down for a kiss. ‘Happy anniversary, gorgeous’ he murmured, ‘I have a present for you.’

Roger scrambled off the bed and hobbled over to his suitcase which he rummaged through, eventually triumphantly producing a black gift box tied with a scarlet ribbon. He grinned as he handed it to Crystal, clambering back onto the bed and kneeling next to Crystal.

Crystal smiled and carefully untied the ribbon. He lifted the lid of the box and found a bottle of aftershave nestling amongst tissue paper. There was a body wash in the box too. ‘I was going to get you a different one,’ Roger told him, ‘but the lady in the shop said this was more popular and you got the body wash for the same price. I haven’t actually smelled this one so I hope it’s nice.’

‘Thank you, cheapskate,’ Crystal kissed Roger’s cheek. ‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely.’ He removed the cap from the bottle and squirted a little bit into the air.

*

Roger was immediately transported back to the alley. Their hands were all over him. He could smell sweat and vomit and urine and mingling aftershaves; one of which he had just given to Crystal, apparently.

He could not breathe.

Roger was dimly aware of Crystal moving. There was a rush of cold air. Roger gasped for breath. Crystal had opened the window, he realised. He was dimly aware that Crystal was talking to him.

‘Roger, sweetheart, it’s Crystal. You’re with me, darling. You’re safe, Roger.’

Roger realised his eyes were closed and he opened them. Crystal looked worried. The cloying scent of the aftershave was dispersing in the cold air rushing in the open window. Roger shivered.

*

‘Roger, may I touch you, lovely?’ Crystal asked.

Crystal was relieved when Roger nodded. He carefully gathered Roger into his arms. ‘You’re alright, li’l’ angel, I’ve got you. You’re safe.’ Crystal smoothed Roger’s hair off his face. ‘I gather the scent is the problem?’

Roger nodded. ‘One of ‘em was wearing it when...’

‘Okay, love, you’re okay...’

‘Oh, Crystal, I’m so sorry! What a stupid, shitty anniversary present!’

Crystal laughed. ‘Yeah, it’ll be going straight in the bin!’

Roger laughed too, a little shakily. ‘It was bloody expensive, too!’ He pressed his face to Crystal’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him. ‘I’ll get you something better.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Crystal murmured. He kissed the top of Roger’s head. ‘I have a gift for you,’ he added.

Roger wriggled so he could look up at Crystal. He smiled. ‘Maybe we should start again? Good morning, gorgeous husband of mine; happy anniversary.’

Crystal kissed him. ‘Good morning, sweet li’l’ angel and happy anniversary. I have a present for you.’ He pressed his lips Roger’s again, then got up and retrieved Roger’s gift from one of his bags.

He handed Roger a long black box tied up with a blue velvet ribbon. Blue to match Roger’s eyes, although Roger impatiently pulled the ribbon off, eager to open the box. Crystal sat next to him, watching him fondly.

Roger prised the lid off the box and impatiently cast aside the tissue paper. His eyes widened. ‘Oooh!’ He carefully withdrew one of the drumsticks in the box and examined it. ‘Oh! They have my name on them!’ Roger gently placed the stick back in the box and flung his arms around Crystal, bestowing little kisses on any available skin. ‘Oh, Crys, I love them! Thank you so much!’

‘I got you a few,’ Crystal said gruffly, ‘because I know you’ll break them...’ Roger was showering him with kisses. Crystal grinned. ‘I’m glad you like them!’

‘I’ll use a pair tonight!’ Roger kissed him enthusiastically.

They both jumped as someone banged on the bedroom door. ‘Time to get up, lovebirds!’ Brian shouted.

‘Spoilsport,’ Roger grumbled.

Crystal hugged him. ‘Once we’ve showered I’ll re-bandage your feet.’

Roger sighed. ‘That sounded so much more promising before the bandages were mentioned.’

*

The others were suspiciously quiet when Roger hobbled down to breakfast on Crystal’s arm. They usually separated for breakfast: Roger sitting with the band and Crystal gravitating to the crew. Today, however, Crystal made no move to go over to the table Ratty and Phoebe were at, placing his arm firmly around Roger’s shoulders.

Roger realised everyone was looking at newspapers. Normally he was the only person who read a newspaper.

Everyone was looking at newspapers. Then they were shooting little furtive (pitying?) glances at Roger.

Miami made eye contact with him and held out a newspaper towards Crystal. Roger snatched it and noted the look of concern on Miami’s face. ‘I think that one is the worst,’ Miami cautioned.

Roger pulled away from Crystal and limped to a chair. He glanced back at Crystal, who shrugged and sauntered off towards the breakfast buffet.

*

Crystal recognised a ‘give me space’ look when he received one from Roger. He also recalled ‘I needed you and you weren’t there’ from the day before. The compromise was getting them both drinks then returning to Roger’s side.

*

Roger stared at the photograph on the front page. (He’d made the front page?) It was the snap taken when he had looked up briefly the day before. He looked startled and confused. He hated it. ‘I look like an idiot,’ he muttered.

‘Well, yeah,’ Deaky agreed, ‘but you’re our idiot and we love you.’

Crystal set a glass of water in front of Roger. ‘You can have a painkiller once you’ve eaten something,’ he murmured.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Roger mumbled.

‘I’ll get you some scrambled eggs,’ Crystal decided. He glanced at the newspaper headline. ‘Is This Just Fantasy?’ the headline screamed. The sub-line was: ‘Rock-star quizzed over rape claims.’ In the accompanying photograph Roger looked around twelve years old, cornered and terrified. Crystal felt a surge of anger: who decided these headlines; to use that photo; to judge? He ran his hand through Roger’s shower-damp hair.

‘Not joining us this morning?’ Ratty asked, as Crystal approached the buffet again.

‘Someone needs to bring food to His Majesty,’ Crystal noted, ‘he can’t hobble this far, apparently.’ He realised happily that gave him a good excuse to breakfast with Roger all the time where breakfast was a self-service affair.

‘Is he okay?’ Ratty asked.

Almost certainly not, Crystal reflected. ‘He’s coping,’ he offered, hoping it was true.

*

Freddie had tried to change the subject. ‘What did Crystal give you for your anniversary dear?’

Brian looked appalled. ‘You’re celebrating it?’

‘Why wouldn’t we celebrate it?’ Roger asked.

Crystal set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Roger. ‘If you eat at least half of that you can have some painkillers,’ he promised, hoping this would distract Roger from the dangerous anniversary chat.

Roger looked up at him. ‘I’m really, honestly, not hungry,’ he said.

‘At least half,’ Crystal demanded, ‘then I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

Roger pouted. ‘You’re mean to me,’ he whined.

Crystal ruffled his hair. ‘Yeah, I’m so evil: giving you food to eat and getting you a cuppa.’ He sat down next to Roger with his own plate of food, ignoring the injured look Roger directed at him.

‘So what did Crystal give you for your anniversary, dear?’ Freddie asked.

Roger brightened. ‘Drumsticks! With my name on them!’ he beamed.

‘And what did you give Crystal, darling?’ Freddie asked.

Roger froze.

‘Um...’ He glanced anxiously at Crystal.

‘Nothing, yet,’ Crystal said, ‘it’s a surprise, isn’t it, Rog?’

Roger nodded, flushing a little. He ate some scrambled egg.

Freddie looked at them as if he was trying to work something out. Brian looked triumphant. ‘So you didn’t want to celebrate just now, Roger?’ he cried.

Roger frowned. He glanced anxiously at Crystal again. Why would they not celebrate their anniversary? Had Crystal said something about not wanting to? Did Crystal want to break up with him? He was too needy, he knew. He was all panic attacks and weeping and no fun. Did Crystal feel more like his carer than his lover? How could he not, Roger thought miserably: now Crystal had to both mop up tears and bandage Roger’s feet. Who could blame Crystal if he wanted someone better: someone fun and sexy and happy? Roger certainly wouldn’t blame him.

He realised Brian had launched into a lecture about Crystal forcing Roger to celebrate when he was clearly not in the right frame of mind to do so. ‘I expected better of you, Crystal,’ Brian concluded, with a reproachful look.

‘I live to disappoint,’ Crystal muttered, ‘eat something Roggie,’ he added.

Roger obediently ate more of the eggs. He could not do much for Crystal but he could do that, since it apparently mattered to him.

*

‘Since you ate all your eggs I’ll carry you back up to our room if you like,’ Crystal offered.

Roger smiled. ‘Not bridal style, please,’ he requested, ‘on your back.’

So Roger was wrapped around his back (like the little monkey he was, Crystal thought fondly) as they entered their room. Crystal gently deposited Roger on the sofa.

‘Do you want to break up with me?’ Roger asked.

Crystal’s immediate thought was that Roger would never stop surprising him. His eyes searched Roger’s face. Roger was clearly aiming for serenity but there was a strong undercurrent of fear. (Crystal spent most of his working life reading Roger’s facial expressions and body language and prided himself on his abilities in this area.) Reassured that Roger was not breaking up with him, he responded with a firm, ‘No.’

Roger looked puzzled. Crystal knelt in front of him, looking up at him. ‘Sweetheart, can you explain why you thought I might be?’

Roger frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

Neither did Crystal. He waited. Roger looked distressed. The jagged fragments of Crystal’s broken glass heart crunched within him. ‘Roger, darling, I am not going anywhere unless you want me to?’ Perhaps he had misread Roger? The thought was terrifying.

‘No, no!’ Roger shook his head vehemently.

Crystal grinned. ‘Show me your workings here, li’l’ angel,’ he requested, ‘how did you arrive at this notion?’

Roger blushed. ‘It was the only reason I could think of,’ he started slowly, sounding slightly defensive, ‘for why we wouldn’t celebrate our anniversary. I thought maybe you were fed-up with me.’

Crystal shook his head. ‘Still quite keen, babe.’

Roger smiled. ‘Good. I’m quite keen on you too.’

Crystal scrambled up off the floor and sat next to Roger, curving his arm around him. Roger pressed against him. ‘I think Brian might have wondered if we would be celebrating our anniversary since it coincides with the anniversary of The Incident,’ he explained to Roger.

Roger frowned. ‘It doesn’t. It’s... Our anniversary is the day after.’

(In fact, Roger was not entirely sure of that. He had been in a bar that stayed open late and he thought it had been close to midnight when he had been attacked, so it might technically have been on the same day. Mentally, it was not, however. Mentally, for Roger, The Incident was very firmly on the previous day.)

‘Crystal, did you not want to celebrate?’ Roger asked. Not that they had celebrated, Roger reflected. A panic attack and fresh bandages wasn’t much of a celebration.

Crystal shrugged. ‘I don’t need a special day,’ he muttered. He flushed as he added, ‘every day with you is wonderful.’

Roger covered Crystal’s face with kisses. ‘Soppy!’ he beamed approvingly.

‘Yeah, well, I was going to wait and see if you were okay about the date,’ Crystal said, ‘although I probably left it a bit late to discuss it with you.’

Roger laughed. ‘Well, you’d have been waiting forever for me to open the subject,’ he pointed out cheerfully, ‘I had no idea I was supposed to be bothered by it!’

Crystal kissed him. ‘I think that might be one of the many things I love about you,’ he murmured, leaning in for another tender kiss.

They both sighed as someone knocked on the door. ‘Just me, darlings!’ Freddie called. ‘I thought I’d come and help you get ready Rog?’

*

Roger could only fit a loose pair of jeans over his bandaged feet. The jeans were old and well-worn and needed washed and he felt grotty in them. They were definitely not what he would usually wear for work engagements.

The band had two interviews that morning: one magazine and one newspaper. Then they were having lunch with record company executives and their wives. In the afternoon they had another radio show to do. Roger was apprehensive. The jeans and his bandaged feet in massive trainers didn’t help. He felt silly and awkward.

Freddie seemed to sense that. ‘Try this top, dear. This jacket would look marvellous with it. Would you like me to do your make-up?’

‘I don’t want make-up, thank you.’

Freddie frowned. ‘Are you sure, dear?’

‘If I cry it’ll end up a mess,’ Roger pointed out.

‘Why on earth would you cry, pretty boy?’

‘Freddie, I had two panic attacks yesterday and one this morning. I really don’t want to be worrying about my mascara running!’ Roger explained.

‘You had a panic attack this morning?’ Freddie looked at Crystal.

Crystal had been sorting clothes. This morning was designated for a much-needed trip to do the laundry. His eyes locked with Freddie’s.

‘It wasn’t Crystal’s fault,’ Roger said softly, ‘something reminded me...’

Freddie looked unconvinced but broke eye contact with Crystal. His eyes locked with Roger’s instead and Roger blurted out the sorry story of his anniversary gift to Crystal. ‘So, you see, it was my own silly fault,’ Roger concluded.

‘You poor darling,’ Freddie hugged him. ‘Well, if you really don’t want any war-paint then I suppose we’d better get going.’

Crystal moved to Roger’s side. ‘Do you need me to come with you?’

Yes.

Yes, Roger needed Crystal very much.

‘You have things to do.’

‘They can wait,’ Crystal assured him.

The laundry was a pressing issue, Roger knew. Roger had also seen the other items on Crystal’s extensive list of things to do. He forced himself to shake his head. ‘Nah, I’ll be fine. The guys will look after me.’

‘Of course we will,’ Freddie agreed, placing a protective arm around Roger.

*

This time Crystal went to meet Roger at the door of the venue. He had worried about Roger all day as he did their laundry then helped Phoebe launder stage clothes and the bloody towels from the previous day.

This time the radio interview was being recorded so Crystal had no idea how Roger would be feeling but he wanted to see him as soon as possible. He peered through the glass doors at the press assembling on the steps. A car drew up and there was a surge forwards but the car disgorged the crew members who had accompanied the band as body-guards. Crystal went out to join them.

‘They should be just behind us,’ one of the men informed Crystal as he arrived. Crystal nodded. He could see the car approaching.

The press began to bay for Roger as the car slowed. The body-guards moved them back from the car. Crystal opened the door.

Freddie emerged first, then John. Roger slipped out next, cap pulled down low over his eyes which were hidden behind dark glasses. He winced as his feet hit the ground. Brian’s hand was on Roger’s shoulder. Miami slid out last.

The body-guards assembled around them.

Freddie and John led the way, followed by Crystal and Roger, with Brian and Miami bringing up the rear.

Crystal gently grasped Roger’s elbow, steering him. Roger’s head was down. He was shuffling along as quickly as he could. Crystal could feel his heart cracking, splintering. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong,’ Crystal murmured, ‘you can hold your head up high.’

This earned him a blank-dark-glasses stare. Crystal squeezed the part of Roger’s arm he was grasping. ‘I reckon the lady who ran the laundrette fancied me,’ he told Roger. ‘She gave me a free service wash.’

Roger laughed, looking up for a moment. Crystal hoped they would take a photo of them laughing; hoped the bastards would print that.

*

Roger was glad Crystal was there. His presence was comforting and gave Roger something to focus on other than the shouts of the journalists.

‘Are you lying, Roger?’

‘Do you feel you brought this on yourself?’

‘You’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you, Roger?’

‘Was it a party that got out of hand?’

‘Did you lead them on, Roger?’

How could he hold his head up high, Roger wondered? He clearly had done something wrong if that was what people were thinking about him. He may not have lied or led anyone on (certainly not intentionally) but perhaps he had brought it on himself.

*

Crystal marched him inside the building. ‘I thought you were gonna say that the lady at the launderette gave you a free service,’ Roger told Crystal. He was annoyed that his voice was shaking.

Crystal laughed. ‘She was about eighty, love; that might have killed her!’

‘So an eighty year old lady is my competition? Good to know,’ Roger mumbled. His feet were throbbing. He felt sick. His head ached.

‘Do you want me to carry you?’ Crystal asked softly.

Roger nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ He was unable to prevent a little gasp of relief as Crystal scooped him up and his feet blissfully left the floor.

‘He had painkillers at lunchtime,’ Brian informed Crystal, sounding rather defensive. Roger wondered if Brian was worried Crystal would think they had not been doing a good job of Looking After Roger.

‘Good, thanks Brian,’ Crystal said.

Roger thought he must look like shit. He allowed his head to loll on Crystal’s shoulder. Hotel soap; sweat; cigarettes: Crystal. Was Crystal taking him to the stage to tune the drums? Would there be another picture of Roger looking shit in tomorrow’s newspapers? Probably.

‘Roger, I’m just going to set you down here, babe. I’m gonna take a little look at your feet.’

Roger was back on the table in the dressing room again. This time Crystal was removing the bandages, which were bloody. Crystal was frowning. ‘Oh,’ Roger closed his eyes.

‘How were you ever going to be a dentist when you can’t stand the sight of blood?’ Crystal teased.

‘It’s just my own blood I have an issue with,’ Roger explained. ‘Anyway, I was always gonna be a rock star!’

Crystal snorted. ‘Sure you were.’

Roger wondered if he ought to ask Crystal if all the little bits of glass were definitely out of his feet. It still felt like there was something in them. Then he thought of how Brian had questioned Crystal’s competence the day before and decided to leave it.

*

Later, just before Roger fainted into Crystal’s arms after the show, he mumbled, ‘I think there might still be glass in there...’

*

‘...very well so far! Look at him! He’s skin and bone!’

That was Brian, Roger thought. He felt groggy. Brian sounded furious.

‘Now, darling, Roggie has lost weight, but Crystal can hardly be blamed for that.’ That was Freddie, trying to soothe Brian.

‘Well, we can certainly fucking blame Crystal for Roger collapsing!’ John fumed.

‘I’m not sure apportioning blame is helpful,’ Miami suggested.

A voice Roger did not recognise said, ‘Y’all can’t be in here. I’m gonna have to ask y’all to leave, please.’

‘No,’ Crystal said. Roger thought his voice sounded wobbly. ‘I’m...’

Of course Crystal could not say he was Roger’s lover.

‘You are nothing!’ Brian hissed savagely.

Roger winced. He thought he had better intervene. ‘Crys?’ he croaked.

Crystal gasped. ‘I’m here!’

Roger tried to open his eyes. He settled for opening one of them. It was too bright. He shut his eye again.

‘I’m gonna have to ask y’all to leave, please,’ the unknown voice said, sounding desperate.

‘What is going on here?’ another voice Roger did not recognise asked. This female voice was much more authoritative. ‘All of you out of here at once! The waiting area is over there.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Crystal wailed and Roger was alarmed: Crystal did not wail.

‘I understand perfectly,’ the unknown woman told him, ‘everyone out now!’

There was an incoherent babble of discontented voices which faded after a door clicked shut. ‘Much better,’ the female voice approved. ‘Mr. Taylor?’

Roger opened one eye again.

‘There you are,’ the female voice said, ‘sit up please.’

Roger opened both eyes with considerable effort. He hoped she appreciated the effort that had taken. He blinked. It was too bright.

Once his eyes had adjusted a bit he groggily struggled in to a sitting position. A large man and a tiny woman were looking at him. The man looked worried. The woman looked determined. Both were wearing nurse’s uniforms.

‘I am nurse Lake and this is trainee nurse Mitchell,’ the woman said. ‘Do you have any objections to nurse Mitchell assisting?’

‘Um... No? With what, please?’ Roger gabbled.

‘You fainted,’ nurse Lake stated, ‘due to the pain from your feet. There are very small slivers of glass in your wounds which we intend to remove.’

‘Oh,’ Roger nodded. Poor Crystal: he would feel terrible, especially if everyone was having a go at him.

Nurse Mitchell turned out to be a fan and had been at the previous evening’s show. ‘You were amazing!’ he gushed.

Nurse Lake sniffed dismissively. ‘You certainly inspire a great deal of affection in your friends, Mr. Taylor,’ she observed.

Roger smiled, despite the pain and discomfort. ‘Yeah, I’m really lucky. They’re great.’

*

The scary nurse appeared. Everyone asked simultaneously how Roger was in an anxious babble. She held up her hand to indicate she wanted silence and she received silence instantly. ‘Which of you tended to the wounds initially?’ she asked.

Crystal gulped, ‘I did,’ he confessed, feeling like a naughty child.

Brian was smirking.

‘You did an excellent job cleaning and bandaging the wounds,’ the nurse told him. ‘It was unfortunate that you missed the tiny pieces of glass in there. He is ready to leave now. One of you,’ she emphasised the ‘one’, glaring at them, ‘may come with me to collect him.’ She beckoned to Crystal. ‘Follow me.’

Crystal followed obediently, ignoring the chorus of ‘why him’ rising behind him.

‘Why me?’ he asked as soon as they were out of ear-shot.

‘As I explained to you before,’ she said, ‘I understand perfectly.’

*

Roger was pale and had evidently been crying. Crystal listened carefully to the nurse’s instructions about painkillers and keeping the wounds clean.

Roger stood shakily once he was given permission to do so by the nurse. Crystal clamped his arm around Roger’s shoulders. Roger was clammy, still in his white stage outfit, which was drenched in sweat. ‘D’you want me to carry you?’ Crystal offered.

Roger shook his head and Crystal escorted him out of the little room.

*

The others were waiting. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you,’ Roger told them. He glanced at Crystal. ‘I just wanna go back to the hotel, please.’

Then he pulled free of Crystal’s embrace and shuffled nearer to Brian, jabbing his finger into Brian’s chest. ‘And if you ever call Crystal nothing again then you’ll need a new drummer. Crystal means everything to me.’ Roger glared at all of them, before turning and sweeping off along the corridor, as best he could on his injured feet, without waiting for any replies.

‘Rog, wait!’ Crystal called, sounding amused.

Roger halted and Crystal wound his arms around him. ‘You’re making your dramatic exit in the wrong direction, blondie!’

Roger flushed with embarrassment as he shuffled back past the others again, this time with Crystal’s arm around him. No one spoke. The silence continued as they all squeezed into the limousine that was waiting for them. Roger was squashed between Crystal and Freddie, facing Brian and John and Miami.

Roger suspected he should say something to smooth things over but he wasn’t sure what he could say and he was too exhausted. He buried his face in Crystal’s shoulder. He felt Crystal kiss the top of his head. He did not protest when Crystal carried him from the car to the hotel room.

*

Roger awakened with his head on Crystal’s chest as normal. His feet throbbed but the pain seemed less intense. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled.

‘Good morning, love. How d’you feel?’ Crystal asked.

They had not really spoken the previous evening. They had showered together then crawled into bed to cuddle. Roger had fallen asleep almost instantly. It was not how he had expected their first anniversary to go. He was pretty sure it was not what Crystal had envisioned either.

‘Should I quit?’ Roger wondered.

‘Quit what, love?’

Roger sat up and drew his knees up to his chest, making himself as small a target as possible, Crystal thought and he hated that: Roger had done it a lot after The Incident and it caused Crystal’s nerves and the jagged broken glass fragments of his heart to jangle.

‘Should I quit the band?’ Roger mumbled.

Crystal sat up and reached out his hand. ‘Gonna touch you, love,’ he warned Roger. Roger nodded and Crystal placed his hand on Roger’s back. ‘Why would you quit the band, gorgeousness?’

‘I’m causing bad publicity,’ Roger explained, ‘and I’ve upset everyone. And they were bad to you.’

Crystal shifted so he could wrap his arms around Roger. ‘You did nothing wrong when you were attacked, love. You are not responsible for the press coverage about that. The others understand that. I’m pretty sure you haven’t upset anyone. They love you. They were angry with me yesterday because I failed to take good enough care of you.’ Crystal kissed Roger’s bare shoulder. ‘They were right to be angry with me.’

Roger shook his head. ‘It’s not your job to look after me!’

Crystal laughed. ‘Roger, it is literally my job to look after you! That is my actual job description!’

‘Not like that though!’ Roger protested heatedly. ‘It is not your job to clean wounds or... or... It is not even really your job to take me to hospital!’

‘Love, it is also my job as your partner to look after you,’ Crystal pointed out.

‘No,’ Roger shook his head, ‘it is your role as my partner to love me,’ he stated. He twisted round so he was facing Crystal and wrapped his arms around him. ‘You just need to love me. That’s all. You don’t need to be perfect, either, because I’m certainly not.’

‘You deserve the best of everything, including care,’ Crystal muttered, ‘and if I was one of your friends looking at my poor efforts over the last couple of days then I’d be angry with me too.’ Crystal stroked Roger’s hair. ‘You deserve better.’

‘I only want you,’ Roger kissed him gently on the lips.

‘Good,’ Crystal murmured. ‘I love you, too. Listen, Roggie, I don’t want you to leave the band on my account. If you feel you need to quit, for whatever reason, then I will support you but you do what you need to do, li’l’ angel.’

Roger kissed him again. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘Yeah, you do. It’s me that doesn’t deserve you.’

‘Definitely me,’ Roger insisted. He jerked as there was a knock on the door.

‘Time to get up!’ Brian yelled.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Crystal groaned, ‘you should definitely quit.’

*

Back on the tour bus there was silence again. Roger sighed. Quitting would be easy. It would hurt the others though. So he would have to sort this out.

He followed the others from coach to radio station (would you agree you have a reputation for sleeping around, Roger) to sound-check. Crystal had bought him new flared jeans which could be easily hauled over his bandaged feet and were blissfully clean.

He waited until after the show, which had been lacklustre. He didn’t even have to call a band meeting: Freddie did it for him; just the four of them.

They sat in a little circle on hard wooden chairs. ‘We were shit,’ Freddie concluded. Roger nodded his agreement.

‘The audience were happy,’ Brian noted.

‘We were still shit, though,’ John said.

‘Do you...? Would it be better if I left?’ Roger asked. He drew his legs up to his chest, resting his feet on the chair, resting his chin on his knees. His bandages were soggy after his shower. Damp tendrils of hair stuck to his cheek.

Crystal did not like it when he made himself small like this, Roger knew, although they had never discussed it. That was the trouble with them, he thought: in his working life Crystal was so accustomed to reading Roger non-verbally that he just did it automatically all the time now with uncanny levels of accuracy. Unfortunately, not all of Roger’s non-verbal signals were as easy to fix as a broken bass drum pedal.

Roger looked at the others. John was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, arms folded. Brian was on the edge of his seat, tense. Freddie had turned his chair around and was straddling it with his arms folded across the back.

‘Leave?’ Brian spluttered. ‘Why?’

‘You were the only one of us who gave an adequate performance tonight,’ John noted, ‘so we kind of need to keep you.’

‘You’re not leaving, darling,’ Freddie stated, ‘explain yourself, please.’

‘I’ve brought you bad publicity,’ Roger mumbled, ‘I’m a mess, a liability.’

‘Sometimes the press aren’t all that complimentary about me, either, dear,’ Freddie observed, ‘and you are doing just fine. You are not a liability.’

‘We need you,’ John told him.

‘Yes,’ Brian agreed, ‘we certainly do need you.’

‘The other thing is,’ Roger continued, as if they had not spoken, ‘if you have a problem with Crystal then you have a problem with me.’ There: he’d said it.

They all spoke at once.

Brian: ‘Crystal is a great guy.’

John: ‘I will only have a problem with Crystal if he ever hurts you.’

Freddie: ‘No one has a problem with Crystal, dear.’

‘You were all pretty awful to him yesterday,’ Roger noted, ‘and you wanted me to sack him, Fred.’

‘No, darling, really how many times do I have to say this?’ Freddie huffed. ‘I simply thought you were having issues combining your professional and private relationships. If you are not, that is wonderful.’

Roger supposed they were having issues. That was between them, however. He also thought the solution was unlikely to be Crystal becoming Roger’s house-husband.

‘We were frightened and upset yesterday,’ John muttered, ‘and we took that out on Crystal which we shouldn’t have.’

‘Although it was sort of his fault,’ Brian added.

Roger sighed. ‘Brian, if I’d spoken to your wife like that you’d be furious.’

Brian looked uncomfortable. ‘That’s different.’

‘No, it really, really isn’t,’ Roger lifted his chin off his knees, ‘I need you, all of you, to be kinder to Crystal as my boyfriend.’

There was a long silence.

‘We’ll try,’ John offered eventually. He eyed the others. ‘Won’t we?’

‘I am always delightful to Crystal,’ Freddie sniffed.

Brian simply nodded.

‘Okay,’ Roger uncurled from his huddled position, literally opening himself up to them. ‘Are we okay?’ he asked.

Freddie stood up. ‘Yes.’ He walked into the centre of their circle of chairs. ‘Come here, idiots, and give me a hug!’

Roger shuffled over and nestled against them in a group hug. ‘Us against the world, always,’ Deaky said.

As they drifted apart, Freddie held on to Roger. ‘I love you. I want you to be happy. I think you and Crystal are good together, I honestly do. I only wanted to help, not to upset you, darling.’

Roger nodded. ‘I realise that, Fred. Just... Maybe save the relationship advice for when I ask for it?’

Freddie nodded. ‘Understood, dear.’ He glanced at John. ‘Deaky, darling, you can let the assistants in now. Crystal will need to check we have not harmed Roger.’

*

Roger sat on the bed in their hotel room using the hotel notepaper to make a list. He looked up as Crystal said, ‘New song?’

Roger shook his head. ‘I’m making a list of things we need to talk about,’ he explained.

‘That sounds ominous,’ Crystal joked. His stomach flipped over. ‘What kind of things?’

Roger handed him the piece of paper.

Freddie sacking thing.

Does Crystal feel like he’s my carer?

The public kissing thing.

The anniversary thing. Leave until next year?

Crystal grinned. He looked at Roger, sitting cross-legged on the bed wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and a pair of red briefs. Crystal sat on the bed too, resting his back against the headboard. He held out his arms to Roger. ‘C’m’ on then, babe, ‘n’ let’s chat.’

Roger crawled over to Crystal and curled up in his lap like one of Freddie’s cats. ‘I didn’t really mean now,’ he mumbled.

‘No time like the present,’ Crystal shook the piece of paper. ‘I do not feel like I am your carer.’

Roger peered up at him. ‘Not even now, with the panic attacks and my feet?’

‘When I was upset about the anniversary of my cousin’s death did you feel like you were my care assistant?’ Crystal asked.

‘No, of course not, but that’s different,’ Roger protested.

‘I don’t see how, babe.’

‘You were grieving.’

‘And you are recovering from a traumatic incident,’ Crystal stroked Roger’s hair. ‘It’s no different.’

‘You always seem to have to look after me,’ Roger whispered, ‘You shouldn’t have to bandage my feet like you’re my nurse.’

‘Rog, if I was hurt you would look after me, wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, Crys, of course I would! But no one else would be stupid enough to cut their feet!’

Crystal pressed a kiss to Roger’s temple. ‘Roggie, it was an accident. Everyone has accidents.’

Roger’s eyes searched Crystal’s face. He seemed to be satisfied that Crystal meant this. He nodded.

‘Can we cross that topic off your list?’ Crystal wondered. Roger nodded again. ‘Excellent, so, what do we need to discuss about the sacking thing?’

Roger hesitantly explained what Freddie had suggested and why. He looked anxious. Crystal frowned: Roger should never look anxious. Crystal considered what Roger had said. ‘This is linked to what you’ve referred to here,’ Crystal shook the piece of paper again, ‘as ‘the public kissing thing’ isn’t it?’

Roger flushed. ‘Crystal, I don’t mind...’

‘Freddie has a point, though, doesn’t he?’ Crystal said softly. ‘We do need to talk about our professional and personal relationships.’

‘I’m happy with both,’ Roger muttered.

‘So am I, li’l’ imp,’ Crystal murmured. ‘I like working with you. I love you.’

‘Simple as that?’ Roger said.

‘It’s on your list, cupcake.’

‘Cupcake?’ Roger pouted, ‘I am not a sweet treat!’

‘You are absolutely a sweet treat, babe!’

Roger huffed, pressing his face to Crystal’s chest. ‘Do you find it difficult working with me?’ he mumbled.

‘No. I don’t want anyone to think I get any special favours because I’m also sleeping with you, though.’

Roger peeked at him. Crystal dipped his head and kissed Roger’s forehead. ‘Cute little pixie!’ Crystal cooed.

Roger snorted. ‘You mostly get grief, not favours.’

‘That’s how you see it,’ Crystal noted, ‘but it may not be the crew’s view. I don’t really want people to think of me as your boyfriend when I am at work. Don’t get me wrong: I’m very proud I have such an amazing boyfriend but I just want to be Crystal at work.’

Roger nodded. ‘So when I kissed you at sound-check did that make you uncomfortable?’

‘Kind of, yeah, but you needed that.’

Roger shook his head. ‘Well, yeah, I did, but I can keep it professional for you.’ He grinned, pressing his lips to Crystal’s. ‘At work, at least,’ he added, ruffling Crystal’s hair. ‘I’m slightly disappointed that you don’t want to be my house-husband though!’

Crystal snorted. ‘I’ll bet you are impling!’ He kissed the top of Roger’s head. ‘You’d like a house-slave, wouldn’t you?’

Roger’s face lit up. ‘Oooh! If you ever lose a bet we can do that for a week!’

Crystal laughed. ‘I am never making a bet with you, imp!’

‘Spoilsport!’ Roger kissed him. ‘Are we okay on that topic?’ he asked. Crystal nodded. ‘We can leave the anniversary thing, can’t we?’ Roger ventured.

‘Nope,’ Crystal shook his head, ‘we are having all of the conversations now, babe.’

‘It’s just,’ Roger sat up a little, gently trailing his long fingers across the front of Crystal’s jeans, ‘I can’t help noticing that it looks like something else has come up that we ought to take care of...’ Roger’s other hand ran through Crystal’s hair. ‘I had no idea these serious chats turned you on so much.’

Crystal laughed. ‘It’s not the conversation, darlin’, it’s the hot blond in the skimpy knickers in my lap!’

Roger placed his lips close to Crystal’s ear. ‘What would you like to do to me?’ he murmured.

*

“What a difference a day made

Twenty-four little hours

Brought the sun and the flowers

Where there used to be rain.”

Brian glared at Roger as he slid onto a chair at their breakfast table the following morning. ‘What you need to remember, Roger, is how thin the walls are in these places,’ Brian huffed, ‘I could hear everything you were doing last night.’

‘Good morning to you, too,’ Roger responded cheerfully.

‘What would you like to eat, babe?’ Crystal asked. He was still standing.

‘I imagine you worked up quite an appetite,’ Brian muttered sourly.

‘Yeah,’ Roger agreed, ‘full English, please, Crys.’

‘Coming right up!’ Crystal gave Roger a kiss on the cheek before he ambled off towards the buffet. Roger smiled dreamily: evidently this didn’t count as work.

‘Sometimes you two are sickening,’ John commented.

‘Oh, they’re sweet!’ Freddie grinned. ‘Roger, you’ve certainly put a smile on Crystal’s face, dear!’

*

They were flying to their next venue. The rest of the crew had set off the previous night on the tour bus, following the equipment trucks. So only the band, Phoebe and Crystal were present when Miami arrived with the morning newspapers.

Miami looked sombre. ‘Roger, darling, there’s been a bit of a development.’

It appeared that the man who had found Roger after he had been attacked and called the ambulance had spoken to the press. It was, apparently, his opinion that Roger had definitely been the victim of a non-consensual attack. He was basing this on Roger’s distressed condition and injuries when he had found him.

The man wanted to remain anonymous. Roger did not have that luxury of course.

Crystal winced as he read a graphic description of the state Roger had been in immediately after The Incident. As far as Crystal was aware he was the only person Roger had opened up to about this. Roger had not wanted people to know and now everyone would.

‘Roger, darling, is this accurate?’ Freddie sounded shocked and distressed.

‘Yes,’ Roger said. His voice was a hoarse whisper.

‘Well, at least they seem to have finally accepted that you were actually r... attacked,’ John muttered.

Roger looked appalled. He looked at Miami. ‘Mi, if I’m asked about it now in interviews what should I say?’ he asked. His voice wobbled.

‘You don’t have to say a damn thing,’ Brian growled.

‘That’s true,’ Miami agreed, ‘I’ll consider what questions you might get asked and we can work on possible answers. Today, we’ll send Brian and Freddie to the radio station and I’ve asked them for an advance list of questions.’

Roger looked worried. Crystal could feel his heart shattering. ‘Won’t that suggest I have something to hide?’ Roger asked.

Miami shrugged. ‘People will think what they want regardless of what we say or do,’ he observed. ‘Fuck ‘em.’

Roger smiled, although he was still a little tearful. ‘’Kay.’

Crystal put his arm around Roger’s shoulders. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

‘Of course it is, dear,’ Freddie said. His voice was almost as wobbly as Roger’s.

*

Roger was quiet as they finished packing. Crystal wrapped his arms around him. ‘Rog, talk to me.’

Roger shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say, or what to think, really.’

‘You did nothing wrong,’ Crystal reminded him, ‘and we all love you.’ He kissed Roger. ‘Tomorrow they’ll be using those newspapers to wrap up fish suppers from the chip shop, love. It’ll all blow over.’

*

The next day brought quotes from anonymous sources at the hospital Roger had been taken to. The day after that someone had tracked down the paramedics who had arrived on the scene with the ambulance.

At their shows the audiences had spontaneously yelled that they loved Roger. That, plus the love and support of the band and Crystal was all that was keeping Roger going.

He was glad when they arrived in New York, where the tour would conclude after they played three consecutive nights. Roger was glad the end of the tour was in sight but also worried because now he could not avoid interviews.

Crystal sat on the bed and pulled Roger onto his lap. ‘What are you fretting about, li’l’ angel?’

‘Interviews,’ Roger explained.

‘The others will look after you,’ Crystal assured him.

Roger nodded. ‘I know, but it’s still difficult.’

*

Crystal waited near the door for the band to arrive for sound-check; for Roger to arrive. He heard the press begin to howl Roger’s name.

Miami entered first. He grimaced at Crystal. ‘Brutal,’ he muttered.

The band entered, propelled in by their security people. Roger was practically being carried by Brian. Crystal stepped forward and Roger collapsed against him. ‘I’ve got you, love. You’re safe now,’ Crystal could feel Roger shaking. Roger had his cap pulled down, low over his face, and his sunglasses on, so Crystal could not see his face.

‘They were vile,’ Freddie informed Crystal. ‘A mix of: are you a slut; were you actually raped; do you think you were asking for it; you’re not much of a man if you were unable to fight them off.’

Crystal held Roger closer. ‘We all love you. We all know the truth,’ he murmured.

*

What was the truth, Roger wondered. He had been a slut (he liked to think he was not now; not since his relationship with Crystal had started, but what if it was a character trait rather than a kind of behaviour). He had been raped. He shuddered involuntarily. This prompted a chant of, ‘You’re okay, you’re safe with me,’ from Crystal.

Roger didn’t think he’d been asking for it. He agreed he hadn’t been very manly during the attack, though, which meant that most of what they had shouted at him had been the truth. ‘What if that is the truth?’ he mumbled.

‘It’s not my truth,’ Crystal told him. ‘You’re kind and generous and funny and brave.’

Roger didn’t feel very brave. ‘I want to go home!’ he wailed.

‘Now, darling,’ Freddie had his hand on Roger’s back, ‘you just need to get through the next three shows. You can do that.’

They were all crowding round Roger now. Brian and Miami were clasping his shoulders. Freddie and John had their hands on his back. Everyone was urging him to keep going. Keep smiling. The show must go on.

But he was so tired. He pressed against Crystal as if he was trying to merge into him.

‘Give him a little space,’ Crystal ordered them. Despite his distress Roger was amused when they instantly obeyed Crystal.

Roger braced himself internally. He could not cling to Crystal forever, no matter how much he wanted to. He took a deep shuddery breath and pulled himself away from Crystal. ‘Sorry,’ he said, as brightly as he could manage. ‘I’m fine,’ he lied, ‘I didn’t mean to make such a fuss.’

They looked relieved: Roger was back on track. Crystal looked concerned. But Roger was never going to fool Crystal. ‘We’d better get back to work,’ Roger added, attempting to smile and hoping he was not grimacing.

*

The following day brought a further gruelling round of interviews. Roger used the show to take out his frustration and anger on the drums. At least he had the next day off until sound-check, he reflected as Crystal chaperoned him to the dressing room after the show.

‘You were wonderful, dear,’ Freddie embraced him.

‘Thanks,’ Roger muttered, accepting a towel from Crystal. ‘You were pretty sensational yourself, Fred!’ he added. The real Roger would say that, he felt; the Roger who did not have to force himself to smile and fake cheerfulness.

‘Anyone got any plans for tomorrow?’ John asked.

Brian was going to a museum. Freddie was meeting a friend. John and Miami were going to an art gallery.

‘How about you, Rog?’ John asked gently and Roger suspected he might not be faking cheerful normality very well.

‘I have an errand I need to take care of,’ Roger said. He noticed Crystal’s surprise: all tasks were usually delegated to him. ‘It’s something I have to take care of myself,’ Roger said to Crystal’s questioning face. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

*

‘Of course not,’ Crystal did mind, a bit. He’d had a vague idea of them doing something together, although he had not had a specific plan. He was also worried about Roger going out on his own. ‘Will you be okay?’

Roger smiled and nodded. ‘No one will look twice at me.’

*

Crystal worried nevertheless and was glad when Roger arrived unscathed at the diner they had agreed to meet at to get something to eat before sound-check. Roger surreptitiously squeezed Crystal’s hand under the table in lieu of a kiss. ‘How was your day?’ he asked Crystal.

‘I had a nice walk in Central Park,’ Crystal replied. ‘Did you manage to do what you needed to?’

Roger nodded and smiled. ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

*

Roger was bouncing after the show. Crystal picked him up and twirled him around. ‘You’re wonderful,’ Crystal sang, ‘you’re marvellous!’

‘So are you!’ Roger laughed. ‘Put me down, you idiot!’

Crystal set him on his feet and kissed him. ‘Are you going to the party tonight?’

‘I had thought perhaps we could stay in tonight,’ Roger murmured, kissing Crystal and running his fingers up Crystal’s spine.

Crystal grinned, ‘Sounds good to me, babe.’

*

Roger seemed agitated on the way back to the hotel. He claimed to be okay when Crystal asked if anything was wrong. Crystal supposed it was a mix of adrenaline from the show and residual anxiety from the press coverage and interviews.

The hotel room was nice but small. Crystal reckoned space was at a premium in New York. He lit a cigarette and clasped Roger to him. ‘There’s some vodka left, if you’d like a drink, angel?’

Roger nodded. He lit a cigarette too. He still seemed jittery. He produced a little box from the pocket of his jacket which he had shrugged off and flung on to the chair.

*

“It’s heaven when you

Find romance on your menu

What a difference a day made

And the difference is you.”

There was only one chair. Roger had noticed this was often the case in hotel rooms. Presumably hotels expected couples to either snuggle up on one chair or to always be in bed.

Crystal was holding out a glass to him but Roger’s stomach was churning and he had to do this now, before he lost his nerve. He dropped to one knee and blurted out, ‘Will you marry me?’

He held out the box to Crystal then realised that both Crystal’s hands were full. ‘Oh. Uh... I mean, I know we can’t really get married but I do think of you as my husband and...’

And Crystal had never ever said anything remotely like that to Roger.

*

Crystal set the glasses down on the table and took the box. He flipped the lid open and laughed.

‘Happy belated anniversary,’ Roger said shakily.

‘I love you,’ Crystal said, ‘and I’d be delighted to marry you.’

Roger grinned. He scrambled to his feet. Crystal fastened the gold hoop earring Roger had given him in his ear. The box also contained a diamond stud earring ‘for special occasions,’ Roger explained solemnly.

‘Much better than a conventional ring,’ Crystal kissed Roger.

‘We wouldn’t be able to wear rings anyway, really, without awkward questions,’ Roger noted.

‘I don’t have anything for you,’ Crystal said.

‘I don’t need anything but you.’

‘You little romantic,’ Crystal trailed his fingers along Roger’s cheekbone. ‘You’re so gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?’

‘That’s what I keep asking myself...’

*

Brian was frosty again at breakfast. ‘Thank goodness we are going home today and I will no longer have to endure sleep deprivation because of your... your...’

‘Celebration of our love?’ Roger suggested helpfully. ‘Sorry, Bri, I proposed to Crystal last night and he said yes,’ he added with a shy smile.

Freddie clapped his hands, ‘How lovely, congratulations, darlings!’

‘You can’t get married,’ John and Brian said in unison.

‘We know,’ Crystal informed them, feeling irritated: Roger looked sad now. ‘We don’t need a piece of paper or anyone’s approval.’

‘Well, I think that’s wonderful news!’ Miami said warmly.

*

Miami had persuaded someone to open a bottle of champagne and they had bucks fizz at breakfast. There was champagne on the private jet too.

The equipment and crew had already left on a chartered flight. Queen and Miami and one assistant were travelling on the jet.

Traditionally the name of the assistant who got to go on the jet was pulled out of a hat by Freddie and in this case Crystal’s name had been pulled out. That hadn’t stopped Paul Prenter sourly remarking that he supposed Roger needed his nursemaid with him.

(Crystal was completely unaware that all the bits of paper in the hat had his name on them because all of the assistants, including Prenter, had decided it would be best if Crystal was on the jet.)

Roger was asleep, cradled against Crystal. Brian had also nodded off. John and Freddie were playing scrabble and Miami was reading a newspaper.

Roger began to whimper a little in his sleep. ‘You’re safe, you’re alright,’ Crystal murmured automatically. The others looked over.

‘How often does he have nightmares?’ John asked.

‘Not often now,’ Crystal told him, ‘but they’ve been worse lately. I suppose because of the anniversary and the press coverage.’

John looked sad.

Freddie cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps this would be a good time to have a little chat, actually, Crystal.’

‘Leave it, Fred,’ Miami suggested.

Freddie, Brian and John ignored Miami and rose to walk over to Roger and Crystal, looming over them.

*

Roger was drowsy, safe and warm in Crystal’s arms. He heard Miami say, ‘Leave it, Fred.’

Leave what?

‘Is this the bit where you throw me off the plane?’ Crystal joked. He did not quite make the amused tone he was aiming for, in Roger’s opinion.

Roger felt wide awake now.

He decided to keep his eyes shut.

‘Is that what you think, darling?’ Freddie sounded properly amused. ‘And what would Roger say? We couldn’t break his little heart like that.’

Roger thought that he would bloody well hope not.

He also thought that he had asked them to be nice to Crystal.

Crystal, who was effectively his husband now, he thought with a little glow of pleasure.

‘That’s the problem,’ John said. He sounded pleasant enough, Roger thought.

‘Yes,’ Brian agreed. ‘Roger is clearly madly in love with you.’

Crystal held Roger closer as if he was worried they might wrench him out of his arms. ‘I’m pretty crazy about him, too,’ Crystal muttered.

‘That’s good to know,’ John growled, ‘because...’

In unison, Brian, John and Freddie, concluded, ‘If you hurt him we will kill you.’

Miami cleared his throat. ‘That goes for me too, actually.’

*

Crystal grinned. ‘Message received and understood,’ he confirmed. ‘He’s lucky to have you guys in his corner.’ He wondered how much Roger had heard: he was certain Roger was awake and Crystal reckoned he had been listening for a while.

*

Roger blinked and looked up at Crystal. ‘Hey,’ he croaked. Crystal reached automatically for the bottle of water in the seat pocket.

Roger looked at the others, standing over them. ‘Was I making a noise?’ he rasped.

They assured him he hadn’t been and hastily returned to their own seats.

‘We were just chatting to Crystal, dear,’ Freddie said airily.

Roger sipped some water. ‘Thanks, love.’

*

Crystal placed his lips close to Roger’s ear. ‘I know you were awake, little imp.’

Roger, dear, come and play scrabble,’ Freddie commanded, allowing Roger to avoid responding to Crystal.

*

Roger was still wondering how Crystal felt about him faking being asleep (he had seemed amused but Roger still thought Crystal might be slightly upset with him and he felt unsettled about that) when they emerged into the arrivals hall and were surrounded by the press.

Camera flashes blinded them. Roger fumbled his sunglasses onto his face. Everyone had moved to surround him: Brian and Miami in front of him, Crystal and Freddie on either side of him, and John behind him.

Crystal gripped his arm, ‘Keep walking, Rog,’ he murmured.

He was hardly going to halt, Roger thought irritably. What did Crystal think he was going to do: stop for a cosy chat?

Slut; leading them on; out of control, Roger could hear the shouts. He wished it was possible to close your ears as well as your eyes.

‘...described you as a snivelling wreck, Roger, is that true...?’

Yes, Roger thought, snivelling wreck sounded about right.

‘You enjoyed it!’ someone yelled. Roger could not help shaking his head. No, he had not enjoyed it.

‘Don’t listen to them, dear,’ Freddie instructed him.

Roger could not shut out their cries though. Are you a poofter; were you at an orgy; did it get out of control; you wanted it, didn’t you?

He gasped as cold air swirled around him and then he was being pulled by Freddie into a car; pushed by Crystal. ‘Mind your head, Roggie.’

A thunk as the door closed and the shouts were now muffled. The windows were tinted. Roger flopped against Crystal. Now he could hear Crystal’s litany: you’re safe; I’ve got you; you haven’t done anything wrong; we all love you. Crystal’s hand rubbed his back in soothing circles.

Roger wondered wearily if he would ever stop needing this. Would it ever get easier? He supposed the press would eventually lose interest. He felt a jolt of utter terror at the thought that one day Crystal might lose interest.

Crystal seemed to sense this. ‘I’m here, love. You’re safe.’

Roger looked at Crystal’s kind, concerned face. He needed Crystal. He would always need him. Crystal ruffled his hair. Crystal looked puzzled.

*

Despite the cold and the empty fridge and cupboards it was good to be home. Crystal went to get supplies and returned with groceries and fish suppers. Roger had not realised how hungry he was until he started to eat.

As their accommodation was leased under Crystal’s name the press had never figured out where Roger lived now. He was safe here.

They sat cross-legged on the floor by the three-bar electric heater and ate with their fingers, taking the occasional sip of tea. Roger sighed contentedly. ‘It’s good to be home.’

Crystal nodded; his mouth full. Roger added carefully, ‘There’s money now. We could buy somewhere?’ It was a question.

Crystal nodded again. ‘I like this place, but it’s a bit small for two,’ he noted. ‘I’d like a garden, too, if we could stretch to that?’

‘I’m pretty sure we can afford a garden,’ Roger studied Crystal, ‘Are you cross with me for pretending to be asleep?’

Crystal laughed. ‘No. I’d have done that too.’ He smiled at Roger. ‘Do you feel guilty, naughty imp?’

Roger shook his head. ‘Well, maybe just a little bit...’

‘If you feel you need to do some kind of penance then I’ve got a few suggestions...’

‘Oh?’ Roger waggled his eyebrows, which always made Crystal laugh. ‘What did Sir have in mind?’ He treated Crystal to a wicked grin. ‘It’s one way of letting the neighbours know we’re back!’

Crystal laughed. ‘I’m pretty sure this place has thicker walls than those hotel rooms!’

Roger wasn’t sure of that at all and had, in fact, had a couple of conversations with their neighbours which suggested otherwise. Crystal probably didn’t need to know that, however. He hummed thoughtfully, ‘Another reason to get our own place, a house if we can afford it.’

Then Crystal was kissing him and he abandoned all thought of house-hunting or anything other than Crystal.

Later, drowsily snuggled up to Crystal, he felt brave enough to say, ‘I was scared you might leave me.’

Crystal looked at him fondly, ‘In the car?’ he queried, ‘Is that what spooked you?’

Roger nodded, ‘Yeah,’ he confirmed in a small voice.

‘I’ve only just agreed to marry you,’ Crystal said, wrapping his arms tightly around Roger. ‘I’m not giving up on you just yet.’ Then, as Roger tensed, he added, gently, ‘I’m in this forever, Roger.’

‘I’m scared you’ll eventually get tired of me,’ Roger confessed.

‘I’m scared you’ll eventually get tired of me, too,’ Crystal told him.

They both smiled.

‘Forever, then,’ Roger said.

‘Forever,’ Crystal agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far then thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. :)


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